Chapter 4: Don’t Mess With the Adams Girls!

January 23, 2002, Chicago, Illinois

🎤 Birgit

“Don’t think I missed the barely contained explosion last night on the way to karate,” Dad said as we cuddled on Wednesday morning.

I wanted to scream, because Mom was such a pain in the butt, but if I did, Dad would be very upset with me.

“You were handling it!” I declared. “Mrs. Nance called you and you were talking to me about it!”

“I was, but what your mom said wasn’t wrong.”

“But why did she have to butt in?” I protested.

“She’s your mom,” Dad replied. “And she does get her say in matters.”

“But we do just fine!”

“In your opinion. But yours is not the only opinion that counts. A mature young woman would understand that, and take it into account before she let steam come from her ears.”

I felt like I was about two inches tall, because Dad had just said I was still a little girl in his eyes, and THAT hurt so bad I wanted to cry. I was in a terrible situation, because Dad was unhappy with me, and that would ruin any chance I had of achieving my most important goal. That meant I had to show him how mature I was, no matter how much Mom annoyed me.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, really meaning it. “I’ll try harder.”

“You can do it, Pumpkin. Growing up is difficult and everyone has struggles.”

“I know,” I sighed.

“I love you, Pumpkin, and so do your moms. We just have different methods of dealing with the challenges of raising our children. And before you say it, neither one is better than the other, they’re just different. I know you prefer my style, but my style is very uncommon, and you’ll have to deal with bosses and other people in authority who will make your mom look like a pussycat.”

“Like Mrs. Nance?”

“She’s just following orders,” Dad said. “But like many who enforce the rules, she does it without thinking things through.”

“What did you say to her?” I asked.

“I insisted she tell me what you said and then asked her if there was a list of prohibited words. There isn’t, which means, ultimately, it’s arbitrary. BUT, young lady, you know what words are appropriate to use at school, and what words are not.”

“I do,” I sighed. “I didn’t watch my tongue.”

“A thing which seems to happen repeatedly with you, Pumpkin.”

“I know,” I replied. “I’m sorry, Dad. I try, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

“And when you can help yourself, THEN you’ll be the mature young lady I know you can be.”

“Breakfast,” Mom called from the doorway.

“We’ll be there in two minutes,” Dad said.

“I’ll expect you in three!” Mom replied with a knowing smile.

I snuggled close to Dad, and he tightened his arms around me. He loved me very much, and I hated the idea of disappointing him. I’d have to try very hard not to.

January 25, 2002, Chicago, Illinois

🎤 Jesse

A tall, thin blonde girl came up to me while I was at my locker on Friday morning.

“Hi, Jesse. I’m CeCe Carpenter. I saw you win the citywide tournament last year and think you’re an awesome goalie!”

“Hi,” I replied. “Sorry, but I’ve never been to one of your softball games.”

“You haven’t missed anything, because we suck!”

I was SO tempted to say something about her being good at sucking, but even with what Libby had said, that was probably too much for the first thirty seconds of a first conversation. Of course, the NEXT thing that popped into my head was the idea of getting blowjobs from the entire team! Mom Two was absolutely right about me suffering from ‘testosterone poisoning’!

“What’s up?” I asked instead.

“Libby said you don’t have a girlfriend, but I want to make sure, ‘cause I don’t want to be ‘that girl’.”

“Marlo Thomas had brown hair with a tint of red.”

“Who?” CeCe asked, looking confused.

“There was a TV sitcom called That Girl starring Marlo Thomas. She’s been on Friends a couple of times, as a character named Sandra Green. Mom One pointed her out to me and told me about the sitcom. I don’t think it’s been shown in reruns since it went off the air in 1971.”

“Mom One?”

“You don’t know about my family?” I asked.

“What about them?”

“My birth mom is lesbian and is married, though not legally, to another girl. I call them Mom One and Mom Two.”

“Uhm, OK,” CeCe said, looking confused.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a smile. “Most people are confused by my family. My dad has two wives and a bunch of girlfriends.”

“My Dad would KILL for that,” CeCe declared. “But I’m pretty sure my mom would kill HIM if he suggested anything even remotely like that!”

“That’s true for most people, I think. My parents are VERY different. And, to answer your question, no, I’m not going with anyone right now. I don’t need that complication!”

“Would you like to do something sometime?”

Again, I was VERY tempted to say something completely inappropriate for a first conversation, but I had no idea if CeCe knew Libby had said anything to me, and the last thing I wanted to do was mess up Libby’s relationship with her friends. And I needed to make a decision about CeCe. While it was entirely possible, we could get together and nothing would happen, I didn’t believe for one second that would happen, and as Dad liked to say, this was the inflection point.

I almost laughed because Dad was in my head again, but this time, in a good way. It really did come down to a difference of opinion on relationships, and not much else. I’d been with eight girls, and I wasn’t even sixteen, so, if Mom One’s estimate was right, I’d need around fifteen girls by my birthday to match my dad! I almost laughed again, because, with Libby’s help, I might actually be able to achieve that, even though my birthday was less than a month away.

I took quick stock of CeCe — pretty, blonde, blue eyes, thin, small breasts, long legs, flat stomach, and ruby lips that would look amazing if she WAS good at sucking, or, actually, even if she wasn’t and had to learn. I almost laughed for a third time because it was obvious I had a severe case of ‘testosterone poisoning’ and CeCe was sexy and athletic.

It dawned on me that part of the problem was that Libby and I had been having sex nearly every day before she started seeing Karli, and now the only regular sex I was having was with Angelina on Monday afternoons. That might change a bit once Adi had been on the Pill for a month, but as with Macrina, I didn’t know if I could count on regular sex, and I was positive that chastity was NOT my calling.

“Sure,” I said. “What and when?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have a hockey game in the morning, then I’m hanging out with a friend. On Sunday, some friends and I have our Hangout.”

CeCe pouted.

“What’s a ‘Hangout’?” she asked.

“We get together and talk about stuff. Your parents might have called it a ‘bull session’ or ‘rap session’.”

“Oh, OK. Uhm, then when? I know you have hockey practice pretty much every day.”

“How about a week from Saturday? I don’t have any plans for the afternoon.”

I was attending Guys’ Night, but I could spend the afternoon with CeCe, which would be a great way to spend the afternoon.

“Sure! What and where?”

“Do you play pool?” I asked.

“No, but I’d love to learn if you could teach me.”

“I can,” I replied, holding in a joke about holding a stick and using hard, smooth strokes to sink balls into a pocket.

“What time?”

“How about 11:00am? We could have lunch and then play pool.”

“Sure! What’s your address?”

I gave it to her, but then had to hurry to class so as to be in my seat by the time the tardy bell rang.

🎤 Steve

“Chagas disease?” I repeated. “What’s that?”

“It’s an inflammatory, infectious disease caused by the parasite Trypanosoma cruzi,” Mary Whittaker said. “The parasite is found in the feces of the triatomine bug, known popularly as the ‘kissing bug’. We’re pretty sure she caught it on a trip to South America last October.”

“Can you treat it?” I asked.

“Yes. There are two drugs, benznidazole and nifurtimox, both of which we ordered from the CDC. We’ll try the first one, then the second, depending on the efficacy of the first.”

“The CDC?”

“You have to get it from them. I suspect that’s how they ensure they know every case. Mostly we never see this in the US, so it makes sense. I doubt they’ve ever seen a case in Stockholm or Saint Petersburg.”

“What’s her prognosis?”

“We won’t know until she’s received her first course of drugs. If we’ve caught it in time, which is possible, the drug therapy might be able to kill all the parasites. If not, then we treat the symptoms, with the most common complications being heart problems and digestive trouble.”

“How do you catch it?” I asked.

“Bites or feces of the bug. The Voronins were on a trip on the Amazon, which is where we suspect Anya was infected. If they had stuck to the cities, that would have reduced their risk considerably, as the bugs tend to live in mud and thatch.”

“And it took so long because it’s basically one of the last things you would look for, right?”

“Exactly. An experimental diagnostic computer at Stanford came up with the possibility, but rated it as less than 1%, despite the visit to South America. The only facility which can perform the test is a CDC lab, again, because we couldn’t keep the necessary materials in stock because they’d expire before we ever used them.”

“I’d be curious to know more about that computer,” I said.

Mary laughed, “I bet you would! In fact, I asked, and even with an NDA, they won’t show it to anyone outside of Stanford at this point.”

“I’ll mention it to Jess and ask her to keep an eye out for an article in a medical journal.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me to see something in a year or so, but there’s still a lot of work to be done, because judgment calls outweigh statistics in doing differential diagnosis.”

“Art, not science,” I replied.

“Something like that! Anyway, I’ll see you in a month.”

“Sounds good. How long will you keep Anya?”

“A minimum of a week. If the drug works, then she’ll go home and can be treated by the hospital in Saint Petersburg. I’ve already been in touch with them and Karolinska to let them know.”

“I appreciate your dedication and effort, Mary. Are you going to write an article?”

“Probably just a short diagnostic note that would be published in the Mayo newsletter. I’d wager I’ll never see another case of Chagas for the rest of my career. Nobody here at Mayo has actually seen one, with the exception of a doctor from Colombia who is here for his Fellowship, but he’s a surgeon and wasn’t consulted.”

“OK. See you in about four weeks!”

We said ‘goodbye’ and hung up.

🎤 Jesse

“Hi, Jesse!” a cute girl with long black hair said when I was putting my books in my locker before going to the cafeteria. “I’m Kenzie Baker!”

I wanted to laugh so hard, because I knew exactly what she wanted, well, assuming Libby was correct, which I was sure she was. Another inflection point, and another opportunity for my ‘testosterone poisoning’ to lead me exactly where any red-blooded teenage hockey player wanted to go! The only question in my mind was how far to take these opportunities. I would need to have a word with Libby because I didn’t want to go TOO crazy, as there could be all kinds of problems if parents or teachers discovered what was going on.

“You’re in the band, right?” I asked.

“Second-chair sax! I’m good enough I’ll have first chair next year after Ariel graduates.”

I just HAD to make a joke about that, but I could keep it relatively clean, albeit with a tinge of innuendo, and plausible deniability.

“So,” I chuckled, “you’re good at blowing your own horn as well as your sax?”

She rolled her eyes, “Dad says the same thing when I say I’m good enough for first chair and only didn’t get it because I’m a Freshman. You were lucky to get the starting role last year, and the school was lucky your coach is more open-minded than Mr. Sanders.”

“He’s the music teacher, right?” I asked.

“Yes. And he’s the one responsible for both concert band and marching band.”

“How long have you played the saxophone?”

“For six years. I started with a recorder when I was in kindergarten, then learned to play sax in second grade. Do you play an instrument?”

“No, but Mom One says I’m pretty good at blowing my own horn!”

Kenzie laughed, “Sounds like my Dad. But ‘Mom One’?”

“I have two moms. My birth mom is lesbian.”

“Interesting. So that’s your mom and her girlfriend at the games? I thought they were just friends. I’ve seen your dad there, but with other girls, and just assumed your parents were divorced.”

I figured I should just get it all out front, and then Kenzie and CeCe, who Libby said were best friends, could just compare notes.

“My birth mom and dad were never married,” I said. “They chose to have me, and my other mom, who I call ‘Mom Two’, is my birth mom’s wife. Not legally, but they don’t really care what the government says. And my dad has two wives and a bunch of girlfriends. And I don’t mean an ex-wife, I mean two actual wives, though not legally.”

“Uhm, that’s kind of strange, but OK.”

“What’s up?” I asked, just as I had with CeCe.

“I’ve seen you hang out with Libby and another girl, but they aren’t your girlfriends, right?”

“They’re friends, and we hang out a lot, but I’m not steady with anyone.”

“Cool. Want to get together sometime?”

“Sure, though I have hockey practice every day, and my schedule is pretty full.”

“What about after dinner?”

“That could work. Did you have a day in mind?”

“My parents go out on Thursday evenings, so you could come to my house and I could play my sax for you.”

Again, I so wanted to say something like ‘and blow my horn’, but it was too soon.

“And how much trouble would you be in if they ever found out I was there?”

“Grounded until next century,” Kenzie replied.

“You could come to my house,” I offered. “My moms will be home, so you could tell your parents that.”

“That’s, uhm, OK, I guess,” she said, sounding disappointed.

Even if Libby hadn’t said anything, the invitation and response to my question about her parents telegraphed exactly what she wanted. That meant I could be a bit less careful about how I responded.

“I have a basement rec room where nobody would bother us, and trust me, my moms are WAY cooler than you can ever imagine.”

“No parents are THAT cool!” Kenzie declared.

I chuckled, “Trust me, mine are!”

It dawned on me, just then, that I’d let my testosterone make me forget something VERY important — STI tests. There was enough time for Kenzie and CeCe to get them, but it was a question of how to broach the subject.

“There’s one complication,” I continued. “And I’m not quite sure how to broach it.”

Kenzie smiled, looked around, and quietly said, “I think we both know what’s going to happen.”

I smiled, “Then there is one very important thing you need to know, and that’s that if you’re thinking about blowing anything other than your horn, you have to get an STI test.”

“But it would be my first!” she protested in a whisper.

“Which doesn’t change the requirement,” I replied. “There are other ways to get STIs, despite what they implied in health class. Remember what I said about my moms being cooler than you can imagine? They won’t have a problem with that, so long as you’ve had a proper test. It’s mandatory. They won’t check, but I will.”

“Where?” she asked, again keeping her voice low.

“The best place is the clinic at UofC hospital. They can do the test at little or no cost, and it takes three days. If you go to the Eastman Center, they’ll help you. They have an office right off the ER.”

“I better tell CeCe,” Kenzie said, neatly solving THAT problem. “We can go together.”

“Why don’t you have dinner at my house on Thursday? I’m sure it’ll be OK with my moms.”

“Cool! What time?”

“Be there by 5:45pm, please.”

I gave her my address, then hurried to the cafeteria. I got my lunch, sat with my friends, and chatted while we ate. When we finished, Libby and I walked away together.

“Next time you send girls for the ‘Jesse Block experience’, let them know they need STI tests.”

“I didn’t send anyone!” Libby protested. “What happened?”

“You didn’t know CeCe and Kenzie were going to come to talk to me?”

“No! The last time I spoke to them was last Friday, before I spoke to you! So, what are you going to do?”

I grinned, “I sent them for STI tests!”

“You dog!” Libby teased. “Are you going to tell them to keep quiet, or are you going to let them spread the word?”

“Well,” I grinned, “I’d need fifteen or so more by February 22nd to match my dad’s total from before he turned sixteen.”

“No way!” Libby exclaimed. “Seriously? Like twenty-five total?”

“That’s what Mom One said, because she and Aunt Melanie were bringing girls to my dad and telling girls where to get what Mom One calls ‘an expert deflowering’!”

“Talk about getting your dad out of your head! Are you serious?”

“If I was, I don’t think I’d have the time!”

“Hmm. Call it twenty-five days and fifteen girls, so 2 every three days, allowing for days you can’t because of hockey, or whatever, and not allowing for threesomes, which would help.”

“You’re a nut!”

“As I said, takes one to know one!”

“Just let it be, please. Call CeCe and Kenzie an experiment, assuming it goes the way you think it will, and I’ll see how I feel afterwards.”

“Extremely satisfied!”

“Obviously! But you know what I meant. Please don’t say anything to anyone else.”

“What about Riya?”

“If she decides to talk to me, I’ll decide what to do, but don’t say anything, please.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, I just don’t want to get totally out of control.”

“Do you know how many girls your dad was with before he graduated from High School?”

“Around forty,” I replied. “And no, I have no interest in competing with that number! That is not my dad being in my head, that is me saying it’s over-the-top. Not to mention at some point I’ll probably have a girlfriend who won’t be like Aunt Melanie or Mom One!”

“Adi or Macrina?”

“Maybe, but who knows? I’m in no hurry to have a steady girlfriend.”

“I wish I could get Francesca back for you somehow.”

“I just need to figure out how to get her out of my mind.”

“Drowning yourself in the rain of pussy!”

“I’m not sure that’s the solution,” I replied.

“Are you complaining?”

“Hell, NO!” I chuckled.

🎤 Steve

“What did you decide about the movie?” I asked Kara and Jessica at dinner.

“We agreed on The Count of Monte Cristo. We both decided a movie about the daughter of a strict reverend was not our thing.”

“I won’t ever complain about a Dumas film,” I replied. “Kids, what are you doing tonight?”

“My friends and I are going to Water Tower Place to shop,” Birgit said.

“We’re having a sleepover at Amber’s,” Stephie said. “Some of Ashley’s friends and some of my friends.”

“My scout troop is going ice skating,” Albert said.

“Steve, do you mind if I go with Kim, Nicki, Tessa, and Elsa to see A Walk to Remember instead?” Suzanne asked.

“Not at all! You don’t need my permission!”

“No, but it is polite to ask, given our relationship.”

“True. Are you going to stay out late?”

“No, I’ll be home right after the movie so we can get to bed. I know you need to get up to walk Jessica to the hospital in the morning.”